


Lingering Effects

by ukulele_villian



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Goblins in Nott's clan, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Chronological, Pre-Canon, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Spoilers, Trent Ikithon is the worst, spoilers past episode 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukulele_villian/pseuds/ukulele_villian
Summary: “I told you I wasn’t a good travelling companion. “ He’d warned her that he was terrible for conversation, not worth much on a team, cowardly most of the time. If she knew what he had been before: she’d leave, maybe kill him too. Caleb shoved his nose back in his book, unsure what else she wanted him to say.“You’re not good; you’re the best.”A series of excerpts from Caleb and Nott's perspective. Including some Pre-Mighty Nein Days.





	1. Chapter 1

 

He committed his first theft while away at the academy. 

Caleb had never truly stolen, not even when he’d create minor trickster illusions for fun, Caleb’s village was so small that an act against another family felt like an act against his own. 

 

It’s ironic that here, in the opulence of Soltryce where the paper never runs out and they eat three times a day, that he’s digging in the waste bin for a half used fountain pen, and trying to ignore the urge to take the used paper as well for scrap. A few graded parchments passed his glance, they were decorated with a star at the top from the professor indicating that the student either did a good job, or that the professor wasn’t paying careful attention to the quality of the work. 

Caleb had tempered all need for mischief while at the academy. He didn’t have a father or mother who could write a stern letter to get him out of trouble, nor could any of the village afford to pool more money for him and his friends. 

Caleb had watched his fellow students from the back of the room, overcome with envy and greed when the boy snapped the dried inking device and let it fall into the depths of a pail beside the professors podium. It was a beautiful cobalt tool with small owls engraved into the hilt with golden trim, worth at least one gold piece. 

 

The smell of ink and paper pulp had propelled him forward. His own meager writing tools in his satchel, all given as a ‘generous’ donation to him so that everyone would know how charitable the academy was. He missed the gratitude he felt when gifted the forlorn set, his ignorant bliss in not realizing that the shoddy tools would further mark him as ‘other’, ‘foreign’, ‘poor’ in the eyes of his teachers and associates. 

 

He’d stayed behind counting each student as they left and counted the seconds in his head before they’d realize he’s not at communal meal. His pride was too strong to let his classmates see him, lanky Caleb, with his funny accent and hand me down robes. These new feelings, the anger and frustration, they scared him enough to force him to try and forget they existed. 

 

_ Damn them, damn them all to- _

 

“Mister Widogast,” The somber and familiar voice froze him in place. The words don’t need magic to keep Caleb stilled in fear. The figures of authority and adults loomed in his mind as all powerful deities. 

If it were anyone else he could talk his way out of it. He did have a few teachers who were encouraging, telling him to hone himself, keep reading and ignore the jeers and taunts as best he could. 

“Mister Widogast, don’t make me wait while you’re waist deep in the rubbish.” Master Ikithon sounded bored, the drawl in his tone was hard for Caleb to get a read on. 

 

“Yes, sir.” Caleb kept his voice neutral like Ikithon’s, the heat of his blush and nervousness was enough to make him want to combust. But the two halves of the fountain pen stayed in his quivering hands, he’d latched onto them in tandem to Ikithon calling him over. 

_ I’ve done nothing wrong.  _ If he could remember that, then everything would be fine. Ikithon might find his actions odd and foolish, and hopefully that will be all.

 

“Lost something ?” 

 

“No sir,” There was no point in lying. Trent Ikithon was part of the highest magistrates at the academy. Caleb knew about the songs the youngest students whispered; rhymes about Ikithon taking a cane to your backside, and never being able to sit again. “I saw something of interest and wanted to retrieve it.” 

  
  


Caleb’s Common comes out flawlessly, not like Astrid who stumbled and mixed the words. Caleb’s parents had spoken Common, a true blessing in disguise for him. 

 

“So articulate,” Ikithon studied him. Caleb felt faint extensions of magic press around his temples.

 

The pit in Caleb’s gut, the one that always keeps him from straying too far into the forest on a rainy day, says that he should not be alone with this man. He swallowed his trepidation and ignored the feeling. His mother told him stories of goblins, witches, and ghouls to watch out for. She said that they only came for the bad children, but she never told him about the teachers. 

 

The weight within his stomach increased when Ikithon elegantly strode toward him, taking Caleb’s chin in one hand and opening his clenched fists with the other. “You must be a good pet, probably have to be when your every move is scrutinized. It’s usually how it goes with your lot. I’ve been watching you and the other two.”

 

“Yes ?” Caleb stumbled for the right words, numbly responding in hopes that Ikithon would grow bored. Ikithon is a cat, and Caleb is the mouse praying that playing dead will be enough. 

If he doesn’t look down at the two halves of the fountain pen he’ll be fine. Caleb can’t bear to look into Ikithon’s eyes; he keeps himself geared at looking between the bridge of the man’s nose instead.

 

Ikithon squeezed Caleb’s chin, and if Caleb closed his eyes he could imagine them as claws. “Yes what ?” Ikithon whispered.

 

“Yes, sir ?”  _ I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t done anything wrong. Please don’t send me home or tell my parents.  _

 

Ikithon looked down at Caleb’s hands and smirked at the broken pen, or potentially at the way the boy shook, a twig of a child still attempting to get the food to stick to his ribs. 

He paused, letting go of Caleb’s chin, and he flicked his wrist. The fountain pen was restored to its beautiful original state. 

 

There’s a beat, a pause before embarrassing, boyish gratitude bubbled up, and there is nothing stopping the Zemnian that leaves his lips, _ “Echt jetz ?” Did he really help me ? _

 

Ikithon’s face curled into momentary disgust. They’d been told to only use Common to communicate, a rule that Astrid and Eudowolf broke with Caleb while huddled in a corner laughing behind their hands during study hall. 

 

Ikithon leaned close and closed Caleb’s hand around the fountain pen, “I recommend you be careful; you and your friends are running on borrowed time and finite kindness.” 

 

“Yes, Master Ikithon.” He’s too happy to register the cryptic nature of Ikithon’s remark. Occasionally Common is lost in translation. The magic he’s witnessed excited him too much to analyze what the man means. 

There’s a registering empathy growing in Caleb--Ikithon is scary to the other students because he’s simply misunderstood. Just like Caleb--he means no harm and is trying to be a good mentor. 

 

Ikithon ran his eyes over Caleb’s face, he nodded once and then pulled from his pocket a circular device, locket looking, and on a chain. 

 

“Do you know what this is ?” Ikithon asked. 

 

“No,” Caleb admitted. He imagined it was a locket with a large photo inside.

 

“Its a timekeeping device,” Ikithon swung the device back and forth. “Would you like it ?” 

 

“That is very generous, sir--but I must decline.” Caleb blurted, this kindness was too much. And it’s not free. Kindness in his village was given in abundance because it was a community. The Academy is the forest, wild and competitive and brutal. “Thank you for the offer, though, sir.”

 

Ikithon frowned and crushed the timepiece in his hand. His power awed Caleb into fear, and in the face of it Caleb forced himself to not cower. 

 

Taking a step back, he tossed the pieces to the floor. He pointed, wordlessly commanding the young man to fetch. 

 

“Mend it,” he ordered expectantly. “Prove to me that you deserve to be here.” 

 

“E-Excuse me ?” In his life Caleb had seen strange people, annoying people, kind people, quiet people, smart people, and brash people. This encounter proved that cruel people--truly cruel and not just annoying like a bully--weren’t trapped in stories. This was real. 

 

“You heard me.”

 

Caleb leaned down to get the watch, budding tears blurring his vision. He didn’t even want it anymore. He clearly didn’t deserve it. 

 

Ikithon stared at him, the aloof air was suffocating. “You stole a broken pen for what ? Without even knowing a mending cantrip ?” 

 

Caleb squeezed the watch, willing arcana to flow. He wanted to scream that he hadn’t stolen the pen, it had been abandoned and he was repurposing it. “I need a ritual casting glyph, Master Ikithon….” 

 

He knew Ikithon’s answer before he said it, “No, you don’t. And if you can’t produce results then-” Ikithon snapped and the door to the classroom slammed shut, “Then you won’t disgrace our halls, and can remain in here till you get it right.” 

 

“I do, sir ! I belong here !” 

 

Ikithon raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. Expectantly waiting for Caleb to fail. 

 

If Caleb had known the events that would transpire after he would have stopped. He could have taken a reprimand beating, and fallen into safe anonymity among the academy.  But he didn’t. 

 

His arcane will burned the watch in a blaze of fire, uncontrolled and wild. It was a nervous tick that exploded in desperation. 

 

And when Caleb sobbed out an apology, he would forever remember how Ikithon only smiled back in response. He’d even patted Caleb’s shoulder with a hollow, strange laugh accompanying it. 

 

Later that week Caleb received a package from Ikithon with a set of cobalt pens. Each was engraved with the associated symbol of the Empire. The note that came with read,  _ “Let's keep that lesson between us. Come to my office tomorrow morning--we have much to discuss.” _

 

And there was nothing to be done, but obey. 

  
  
  
  


\----------------------------------------

 

Caleb wondered if he looked as pathetic as the creature huddled in the opposite corner of his cell. He thought halfling, or gnome, and retracted the thought when he saw its yellow eyes and bat curved ears. It and him were both in corners, knees drawn to their chests, arms wrapped around themselves. 

 

Caleb had been sitting there for a few hours, numbly listening to the guards who seemed devilishly excited when they’d dumped a sack, and out a small creature had tumbled. He could make out whispers, but nothing conclusive on what they had been planning for him and his cellmate. 

 

He’d been caught sifting through a local merchant-scholar’s research desk and thrown in the cell to be dealt with later. He could still remember a time when, if he so wanted, he could bend the jail and rip it to shreds. 

 

“Common, common,” a guard cooed at the small creature they’d thrown in. “You gotta eat soon.” 

 

Fear wrapped around Caleb’s throat, they’re trying to get it to cannibalize him. He’d hoped they would have just waited till the law master arrived before subjecting him to anymore of their whims. 

He deserved this; deserved to be in a cell or mauled to death. Even if it was fair retribution, he was still terrified. And he had unfinished business, dying would be easy. It was staying alive that was difficult. 

 

“You had to go and arrest a broken one,” The guard admonished his partner who scowled back at him. “What’s a lone goblin doing out this far anyway ?”

 

Caleb stilled his expression, it’s a feeble attempt at not showing the guards his terror. He has his magic, but it’s a small amount saved, gathered after days of rummaging in the woods.

 

The guard threw a stone toward the goblin, only making it further cringe and hide in itself. Caleb hated to agree with his captors, but they’d picked a runt.

 

The guards grew bored and didn't remove the little beast. It stared at Caleb from across the cell, keeping its eyes unblinking and glowing from the moon shining through the barred window. He felt a strange pity for it; it was was only wearing a potato sack. A cold wind conveniently passed outside, and the goblin shivered in time.

In the darkness he could make out long matted hair draped over its face, and its ear had a chunk missing from a bite. Caleb thought of a wild child, something raised by wolves. 

 

He really couldn’t judge its appearance , the state he’s in isn’t so different from a drifter on his last legs or the same little thing sitting across from him. His father would have been so disappointed. 

 

The goblin and him kept watch on each other, a vigil for whoever will take the risk of sleeping first. Its yellow eyes kept blinking, analyzing, dissecting Caleb from across the cell. 

 

A metal tray was unceremoniously slide through a slot in the barred door. A hunk of bread and cornmeal sloshed together in the mix of gruel. The sound made them both flinch. It’s equal distance apart, Caleb reasoned he could scramble over for it. His pride was mostly gone; he was no longer above squabbling for food or lowering himself to debasement. Those attitudes of worth and self approval belonged to a young man in an academy trying to represent his family name. 

 

He won’t fight the goblin, he’d either lose to it, or lose control and kill it. The smell of singed flesh sends him back to a place he avoids at all costs. The fight is fair to neither of them; the small creature is so puny, and uncharacteristically alone for its kind.

 

“Go ahead,” Caleb said, voice cracking from disuse. “I’m not in the best place to be eating right now.” 

 

It didn’t speak, but its eyebrows and ears raised. Caleb felt nervous in front of it's sentient and lucid responses. 

 

Caleb gave up. He didn't want to enter a loop of thoughts on whether his cellmate could understand where she was. It was better to hope it was feral and animalistic. He shrugged, and sleep came for him. And the dreams too.

 

He saw it all again. His father and him looking over the river rocks. His mother yelping when he set fire to a pair of shoes. “ _ Mutter schau, es ist wie meine Haare”  _

 

The dreams shifted, taking him back to the cabin in the woods. The cabin door was thrown open and Trent Ikithon had his hand on the back of Caleb’s neck, hurrying him to his punishment. 

 

Caleb watched himself from afar, a bystander to his past. He stood frozen as Trent threw the younger him toward the open cellar door. His younger self fell into darkness, and from afar the cellar is a mouth ready to swallow him whole. Ikithon bolted the lock on the boy who began pounding on the door, begging to be forgiven and let out. 

 

_ Du hast ihm vertraut? He was a snake in the grass, like you. But, he doted on you at times. Made you feel special with one hand before slapping you with the other. _

 

Caleb screamed awake, sweating and shaking. He’s shocked to see he’s in a cell, not Ikithon’s cabin cellar. He’s not in his room at the asylum either. And he’s not at home. There is no home for him. 

 

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Something from a short distance away was closing in. As he watched, the previous events of the day came back to him: sneaking into the scholar’s study, being thrown in prison, and the goblin. 

 

He closed his eyes and sighed. He waited and held still, wondering how much magic he could muster to defend himself in the dark. Frumpkin could aid him, but if he became seriously wounded Caleb would have no way of bringing him back. His last true ally was fragile. 

 

Caleb re-opened his eyes, confused and shocked while the goblin placed a burlap blanket around him. As soon as the goblin made eye contact, she scampered a few feet out of his range. She held her arms up to her face as if she expected Caleb to burst with strength and begin attacking her. In the faint light of the moon he could observe more of the goblin’s features: lithe limbs, copious amounts of green and blackish hair that draped over her face like a weeping willow, hands held in a taloned position, bruised everywhere, scarred and scared. The goblin girl lost what made her an 'it' and began to take form as a 'them' or 'her' to Caleb.

 

“H-Hello,” His greeting sounded more like a question. Caleb loathed small talk and the threat of being mauled; but at that moment small talk was the lesser of two evils. He thumbed at the blanket thrown over him, confused where she could have gotten it. "It's chilly tonight, isn't it ?" 

She shocked him by nodding. If she understood, then she could have comprehended when he offered her food. He looked over to the plate and saw some had been consumed. “You can have more, there is still half a plate.” 

 

The goblin chewed on her lip, debating something in her mind. She kept opening and closing her mouth; like she'd thought of something to say and then regretted it. 

“You talk funny.” She said--after a great deal of visible, internal struggle--and her tone was surprisingly matter of fact, her Common tinged with a bit of lilting accent as well. 

 

Caleb blinked a few times, collecting himself and attempting to find a response. 

 

“You got me there,” being called a crazy Zemian wasn’t uncommon for him. Caleb swallowed a hunk of fear in his throat. All stories about goblins followed a similar narrative; they’d kidnap bad children and boil them alive. Ikithon would frequently list goblins as a pest they would one day exterminate. Caleb's father and mother used to tease him with stories of goblins. Yet, what was happening didn’t follow the legends he was familiar with. The few civil words shared was enough to make Caleb accept that he was either still dreaming, or still partially insane. 

 

“But, it’s pretty too--sorta. The way you say ‘hello’ like ‘hallo’. ” The goblin twisted the hem of her potato sack dress. She appeared bashful and worried to offend. Caleb tilted his head. 

“You’re uh, ah- you know, skinny too,” The goblin moved further back, she was still crouching in a way that made Caleb believe she was ready for an attack. Caleb watched her pick up a piece of bread from the meal left, her eyes never leaving him. Dexterously, she ran up and dropped it by his feet before backpedaling away. Was she trying to tame him ? 

 

He couldn’t reconcile what was happening, “I’m not hungry.”

 

The goblin girl’s features scrunched up, “Uh, um….Do you like jokes ?” 

 

“No,” He worried the goblin was about to mock him. Her ears turned downward, like a kicked dog. He'd never been great with pleasantries, and a wave of guilt made him regret his response. “I- I- mean I don’t like jokes done onto me. I don’t like jokes about me.”

 

“Then this one is perfect !” The girl scurried closer to him, an innocent smirk was plastered to her face. The fear she had of him earlier was beginning to wane. Her wide rows of teeth reminded Caleb to tread lightly. Don’t anger it, he thought. “What’s a fly without any wings ?”

 

“Uh,” Caleb had heard this one before. “A walk ?”

 

The goblin’s eyes widened and her ears wiggled, “You’re smart ! And a funny guy !”

 

She’s enchanted, and it’s been so long since anyone has shown any pride in him. Caleb can’t help himself, he smiled, and snapped his fingers. Frumpkin appeared on his shoulder and the small girl yelped. 

He laughed at the bewilderment over taking the goblin girl. The sound of laughter hurt against his throat, and Caleb silenced himself immediately to focus on the joy of his cat pawing at his cellmate’s confused face. 

 

“This is Frumpkin,” Caleb introduced and the fey purred and trotted around the cell.  _ Show off.  _

 

“‘Hallo’”, she mimicked Caleb’s accent. “I’m.......Nott The Brave.”

 

“That’s your name ?” Caleb suspected that she'd hesitated to tell him. The pause in her introduction told a longer story than he expected.

 

“Yep,” She tilted her head and crouched in front of Frumpkin. Nott The Brave missed his pitying look and took to attempting to pet at Frumpkin’s head. “You have a name too, human ?”

 

There was a moment where he considered lying, or just remaining silent. But he reasoned there was no harm in telling her. There was no possibility she knew of him, the him that existed before, “Caleb-- I’m Caleb Widogast.”

 

“Hm,” Nott The Brave absentmindedly hummed and scratched Frumpkin’s ear. “Your name is pretty too.” 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Are you a Fey like Frumpkin ?” Nott asked. 

 

Caleb looked up from his book, ink still smeared on his cheek. “No, just human. Where did you get that idea ?” They’d been on the road away from prison for a week now. In that short time he’d found Nott was carving a more permanent space in his world. She was a skilled pick-pocket and could make him laugh. He hadn't wanted to laugh in years. 

 

Nott fiddled with her crossbow, and pondered her response. The goblin girl still measured her words around him and apologized for everything, another factor that endeared Caleb to her. “Your hair is the color of copper coins.” 

 

“And your hair is black and shimmers green,” Caleb retorted.

 

Nott jokingly stuck her tongue out at him. “But you always put on a, uh, a skin when you talk to other humans--even if you already look like one of them. And you take it off and become Caleb. Like the Fey do. That’s you when you lie.” 

 

He’s thrust into the past; his mother once called him her little changeling. Back then his habits had been strange and worrisome; back when his copper hair marked him. His ticks had shown their worth when they realized the magic that lurked under the surface of their son. His parents had been so relieved, their child’s painful shyness, moods, sensitivity, deep daydreams, and need to count every little tile and window were signs of a talent. They’d encouraged him despite their fear. They’d loved him so earnestly despite knowing little to nothing of magic. They'd hate what he's become. 

 

“I told you I wasn’t a good travelling companion. “ He wanted to end the conversation immediately. Caleb had warned her that he was terrible for talking, not worth much on a team, cowardly most of the time. If she knew what he had been before she’d flee from him. Caleb shoved his nose back in his book, unsure what else she wanted him to say. 

 

“You’re not good; you’re the _ best _ .”

 

“You don’t mean that.” Caleb blushed behind his book, frustrated and confused. The only reason Nott thought anything of him was because she had no frame of reference. He theorized he was one of the only people who'd given her a chance. 

 

“No- Like, I used to get jealous.” Nott continued speaking, and Caleb hid his bewilderment behind the book. “I know being with me is hard; I complicate things really a lot. You’d talk to another human and I was worried you’d leave. But you don’t really talk to them, and you come back. ” Nott said this all with a strong conviction that made Caleb suspect she thought it was a compliment.

 

He turned a page of his book and kept reading.

 

“I’m sorry….I didn’t mean to...You've been really nice about letting me say weird shit-”

 

“I’m not a nice person,” Caleb said. He’s never been, even when he’s trying to be candid, people can see through his lapse into good in the same way they smelled the filth and grime on him. 

 

Nott’s shoulders touched her ears. Caleb could see her waiting for him to say more, but when he doesn’t she pulls out her tin flask and drinks in a quick slurp.

 

Later that night, he began ritual casting on a book Nott had found for him. She reminded him of a magpie, showing him affection in collections. ‘Look,’ she would whisper, ‘look it’s so pretty.’ Spoons, buttons, bracelets, pebbles: the world was cruel to her and she grabbed at it anyway. They were both afraid, running, and hiding. But, Nott was braver than him, kinder than him too.

She’d run into anything for him, and that scared Caleb more than anything they’ve faced thus far.

 

The book didn’t give off a scrap of magic. Caleb sighed, the fire crackled back in response, and Nott’s tiny snores ignored him.

_ But there’s still magic here ! _ It flickered faintly towards--Nott !

 

“Nott, Nott,” He shook her awake. Caleb needed to confront her on this. How could she have neglected to tell him ?

 

In the long run, it was the wrong thing to do. His friend swung her short sword out, almost slicing Caleb’s throat. He ignored the blood coming from his palm and Nott’s exclamations. 

 

Nott took one look at his bleeding hand and panicked “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry !” 

 

“You have arcane potential,” Caleb said. Nott persisted crowding him with row of bandages from her own hand, grabbing for his wrist each time he pulled away. “You have magical properties, and you never told me.”

 

She stopped and narrowed her eyes, his wrist sliped out of her grasp, “Is this a joke ?” 

 

“No, I haven't felt it till now,” She only shook her head at him in disbelief. “I could show you if you wanted ?”

 

“You’re not going to do anything to me, right ?”

 

Caleb’s breath caught in his throat. “I’ve made you glow and levitated you before….”

 

Nott twisted the bandages and reached for her flask. She took a few sips before proceeding, “You’re not gonna do any tests on me right ?” 

 

_ Sich hinlegen. Das wird nicht lange dauern. They always tell you it won’t hurt, but they’re liars. They'll say they're doing this to make you strong. Ikithon lied and lied and- _

 

“I swear to you, I will never use another bit of magic on you unless you ask me,” Caleb hadn’t realized how much he was shaking. He risked reaching to give her shoulder a squeeze, and Nott by-passed his gesture entirely by throwing herself at him. She hugged him with such fervor, “I can still make you glow, right ?”

 

“Of course ! You have to show me how to do that too !” Nott squeezed him, her tiny claws bawled into his coat

 

“So you do want to learn ?” He’d never wanted an apprentice. Maybe before, the idea when he was younger might have sounded appealing. But this isn’t for him. She'll need her powers when the time comes for them to part ways. 

 

\-------------------------------------------

He knew she loathed whenever this happens--when the other humans get too violent and transform her into a bloody mess of thin limbs that can be left behind. Her injuries made her expendable in her own eyes. 

 

Nott whined, even hissed as he started wrapping her legs up in salve bandages. Small feet attempted to kick his help away. She gets more feral and frightened when his larger hands began to lift her to his lap. 

 

“Hurts-” Nott’s teeth gash and her split lip muffled her words. “Please, Caleb-”

 

“I know, I know--small one, I know.” He reviewed every spell he knew off the top of his head. Fire bolt, burning hands, dancing lights--all useless. Nothing to ease his friend’s misery. Her pride was fragile, she’s not a child--at least not from her point of view. Nott boasted of her nine years of life, a victory for a goblin on her own. At best she’s mentally a seventeen year old, and Caleb knows from experience that seventeen isn’t old at all. 

 

He was seventeen years old when Master Ikithon--Trent Ikithon--had him kill. Seventeen isn’t old. Certainly not wise. 

 

“Stop,” Caleb senses her go stiff when she hears him plead. “You’ve helped me; why is it that when I'm doing the same it's such an offense ?”

 

She softened herself, and sheepishly held her claws together before whispering, “I don’t want to burden you.” 

 

He gingerly pulled her closer, attempting to avoid the bruises. “I read a story once, about a tiger and gorilla,” he struggled to say ‘you are my only family left and I have no one’ so he defers to an easier ways of communication. If he tells her a story he can place himself at an arm's distance from all the things he’ll fail to say. 

 

“Their relationship was symbiotic. The creatures needed each other to fulfill what they couldn’t.” 

When Nott has questions for him she’ll make an array of faces, tonight’s is a scrunched nose and bit lip.

 

“I’ll explain it to you in the morning,  _ ja _ ?” He’s never seen a gorilla or tiger, not certain they still exist, and Nott is smart enough to fill in the blanks in her own way. 

 

“You tell stories when you’re nervous.” She said.

 

“Because I am nervous about your well-being,  _ bubbala. _ ” He retorted, knowing the term of endearment would put down any further argument.

 

“Mhm, so smart, Caleb.” Nott leaned her head against his chest, even held out her hand so he can wrap it too. What little fight she had in her faded and is replaced by a deep exhaustion. 

 

She fell asleep in his arms, trusting him with her life. Up close he can see her knobby knees and lithe wrists. All the bandages and bruises around her make up a motley design on her rough skin.  

 

There are no written works on goblins that portray them well. There will most certainly never be a book about how goblin’s have a soft velvet patch of hair around their ears, or how it’s almost like stroking a bat’s ear that feels like a rabbit’s. 

There’s no demand for academic discussion on befriending a goblin girl who sets flowers in your hair while you sleep, or cries with dismay at the realization she ate your cat. 

 

_ Before you go back you’ll need to find a safe place for her.  _

 

\-------------------------

 

The uniform was scratchy. Caleb tugged at the cuff of his sanctioned jacket. Red and expensive, but still scratchy and had a severe lack of pockets. He averted his eyes from the mirror and continued straightening his coat. His appearance didn’t matter. What he looked like to the row of devils that Ikithon would bring to them was unimportant. 

 

His hair was cut to the regulation length, every bit of him doctored to the image Ikithon was planning. 

 

_ “ _ _ nicht zappeln, meine Liebe.”  _ Astrid said, walking up behind him and kissing his already blushing cheek. Her uniform no longer looked ill-fitting. Her common is flawless, and she will indulge him in old habits when no one is around. 

 

“Your accent is so faint these days.” He said.

 

“ _ Die Ausführung ist öffentlich.” _

 

“It must be serious then.”

 

Astrid took his hand and guided Caleb through the many rooms of the academy. They exited from the door of the cabin into a sky blackened by a smog of something insidious. 

 

It was Nott. She was caged and cowered beside Ikithon on a high podium.

 

_ How did they find her ? She was wearing her mask and we’ve been so careful. _

 

“This feral creature is a prime example of the threats that plague our peace, our world, our empire.” Ikithon loved to hear himself speak. He circled Nott’s cage, running his hands along the bars as well. It further made his friend cower in a ball. 

 

The crowd thickened around him, forcing Caleb to shove his way forward. Being touched only makes this worse. Faceless people who refuse to move keep him miles away from the stage. He couldn’t see her over the heads of the crowd and realized the jostling is pushing him back.

More shouts are heard all around him. The sky has turned abysmal in the time it’s taken for Caleb to advance even a foot. 

 

“You shit eating narks !” Another familiar voice snapped, low and barking. It’s coming from the stage, and Caleb caught a glimpse of Beauregard trying to lunge at one of her captors. 

 

All of his friends have been taken and stand beside Law Master Yorda, he was gone for only a second ! He tried to push through, simultaneously planning has never been his strong suit. 

 

“You’ve always been a good follower, Widogast.” Ikithon said, and if only Caleb could get a shot at him without burning the crowds of people who won’t move, he could save them all. “You’re trying to find a way out of this that ends with them all living, but it’s easier for you to defer to the group than admit you’ve never actually been clever.” 

 

“I’ll kill you !” Caleb hoped he would have sounded stronger by now. He’d been waiting years to finally say something to Ikithon, and when the time comes he's only full of cliches and helpless rage. He should want to burn this man alive, but after all these years his rage is a helpless cloying welt. Caleb wants to hide; he wants to make things right; he wants to stop hurting; he wants his friends to stop leaving and dying. 

 

_ Wach auf, Narr!  _

 

Caleb shook and shivered himself into current time, the inn, The Mighty Nein. They are safe, for now. 

The blankets and bed spread was a mess. He’d been kicking furiously in his sleep and in the dark he sees the stars from the window. He knows for certain it’s four in the morning hours. 

 

“Caaaaaleeeb,” Nott lengthened his name and pawed at his cheek. “You rolled over me.”

 

He couldn’t respond. His body was frozen from the nightmare, the same sensation of numb that used to come over him in Ikithon’s cabin, it wracks his body and stilled him. He’d wanted to make it stop, not fight back--just wanted it to end. But instead his mind had shielded him, took him out of himself. He’d stare into the ceiling cracks until he felt like he was one with the house. 

 

“Hey, hey there,” Nott climbed up beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s almost morning, don’t worry.” Her nuzzles and pats begin to ease him, and the funny tune she begins to hum carried him back to a dreamless sleep. 

 

\----------------

 

“One, two, three, _vier_ , _fünf,_ _sechs_ , _sieben_ …” Caleb counted each berry, the purple coloring staining his fingers with a wine, red hue. 

 

“Caleb ! Where are you !?” Nott called from their camp.

 

He’s startled from picking berries. It’s been three weeks on the road with his new companion and she’s already saved him twice. When he woke up the morning after a rough night and saw Nott half asleep with a grimace on her face, he wrestled with how to make their situation more enjoyable. He’d resolved to go foraging, as he had when he was a young man.  

 

He’d stepped one hundred feet away while his friend remained resting. Nott’s shrill and panicked cry tells him that waking up alone is not to her liking. He started hurrying over back to camp, keeping the berries in one hand while smoke began charing his other free palm in preparation to fight. 

 

“Over here,” He called back. They shouldn’t be yelling in the woods, but Nott’s wailing demands his attention. 

 

Nott trotted out, unharmed and relief etched all over her face. Caleb lets the arcane energy fizzle in his other palm. They haven't needed to fight too much, and he's hoping she won't be an audience to the person he becomes in the heat of a duel....

 

He held out the berries he’s found, trying to also let his dark thoughts fizzle alongside his magics, “These will be delicious, and I know how to make marmalade.” 

 

He wanted to share with her a treat, even if it meant unburying a memory--she deserved to be given something special. Caleb didn’t, but Nott did. 

 

Nott’s reaction doesn’t morph into endearment or joy like he expected. She rushed over and slammed the berries out of his open hands while he’s crouched in front of her; he yelped and scrambled back, unsure why she's turning on him now when she'd had so many other opportunities. 

 

“You didn’t eat em ?! You didn’t eat em, right ?!” Nott screamed and lunged for his coat collar, shaking him as best she could. 

 

“No- No- I uh, Nott stop-” Caleb couldn't speak while his friend tried to pry open his lips with her nimble claws. “Nott, I’m fine.”

 

“You stupid human,” She yelled, and unceremoniously threw herself at his chest. Her face gets buried in his coat while she clings to him, as if he’ll disappear when she lets go. “You’re so smart all the time, but you didn’t see….”

 

“I don’t follow,” He murmured. His hands are hovered over Nott while she hugs him, it’s been too long since he’s had another living person interact with him. “Are you only carnivorous ?” He thinks maybe there’s a Goblin culture trend he’s missing, like offering berries to your friend is demeaning.

 

Nott shook her head adamantly and pulled at his hand for him to follow. She lead him to a clearing where a dead rabbit lay cold with purple stain all around his mouth. Caleb had avoided the areas of quaker buttons, and thought that had been the only threat to them plant wise. He’s never felt so foolish. His mother once, long ago, had yelled at him when he brought home holly. She'd been shaking with rage, before scooping him up into an embrace. His mother's anger was directed towards her own fear and less at him. Directed at the world that would frighten her with the threat of taking her son.

 

Caleb looked down to Nott, who was still furious and scared, and he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her into a hug. His previous hesitation completely vanished. 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I made this a one shot for Caleb, but I felt like adding a Nott POV chapter would round the work out as a whole.

She remembered the first time she drank booze. Nott was surprised what stuck to her memory and what didn't. 

Later in life--much later--she would wonder why she could remember every chemical Yeeza taught her (iron, magnesium, nickel, copper, gold, bromide, hydrogen, oxygen, sulfur, potassium......). 

Yet, Nott can't focus on the last thing Yeeza said to her. His last words should have been there; she should know them by heart. Her first friend should be carved into the backs of her eyelids. The alcohol had numbed too much of that night, and when she’d turned to see him not at her side, she’d kept running. 

She'd been a pup during her first taste of liquor, those first weeks of life were bright and hazy--lots of bonfire parties and smacks to the head. 

A pair of drunken and surly members of her clan had caught her sulking in the raised roots of a tree.  

"It's a scrawny pup, Tick." The fire a few feet away shadowed the elders’ faces and made them even bigger and more omnipotent in her mind. Nott could hear barking laughter around the camp, revelry and playful fighting that made her squirm. She wanted the tree roots to become hands; gentle hands that could scoop her up high and away from the world. 

 

At four weeks old she understood desire, wanting; the sharp feeling in her gut when she saw a family of rabbits in a hollow, curled up and nesting together--that sensation  wasn’t hunger, it was needy and delicate. 

Other nameless feelings ran about too, when the hunting party descended onto the rabbit's hollow her stomach and throat had felt tight. Her young body told her something was wrong when they did it, but she still wanted a bite as the elder’s roasted the creatures. Too many confusing forces fought for control of her, and she knew babbling about them to anyone who’d listen wasn’t an option. 

 

The two elder goblins, the one who had commented on her, and his friend named, ‘Tick’, closed the distance between Nott and them. A cocktail of emotions moved through Nott’s body: want (the elders had shiny earrings and jewelry on them), confusion (had she done something wrong ?), fear (a smack to the head was coming). 

 

Nott, but not yet Nott--she hadn't been given a name yet--attempted to keep her head down. She was testing ways to make people not hate her, and pretending that you didn't exist was showing promising signs. 

 

Tick, who wouldn't remember Nott when she became her 'assistant' in torture, had grabbed Nott's chin and forced her to stare up at her grizzled form. The lady Goblin had an acidic smell that would always be associated with alcohol, distilleries, and cherry wine.  Another smell was under her clawed nails too, iron and dried red that had taken on a brownish tint. 

 

"This is the one who was born with its eyes open." Tick squeezed the pup goblin's face, digging a claw into Nott’s cheek. “See, it shakes, but doesn’t close its eyes.” 

 

Nott stared at the bridge of Tick’s nose. 

 

"No shit, really ?" Her compatriot neared and yanked at Nott's ear. She whelped, dangling from their grasps. "Creepy....Why doesn't it fight back ?" 

"Midwife wouldn't suckle it. Probably too weak to do much. I say good riddance; bad luck the way it's staring and all. You're not supposed to stare like that. See too much and you're lips loosen." Tick dropped Nott's chin and uncorked her flask, drinking deeply. 

 

Nott smiled a little, she'd guessed right about why she kept seeing fuzzy spots in her vision ! She’d need to find another way to get milk. 

 

"Haha, how bout you suckle it, Tick ?" 

 

Nott flinched preemptively. Her intuition was correct because Tick sunk her teeth into the other goblin's arm. The way Tick dislodged her jaw left a crimson drip in her teeth and her ‘friend’ babbling on the ground.

Tick chuckled and leaned back to Nott, who was ready to crawl into the dirt at the tree and go back to being invisible. “Here, you don’t need milk,” Tick tipped the flask toward her. “This will put you asleep, pup. Close those wide eyes.” 

 

The flask’s lid swung back and forth from a chain twisted around the neck of the bottle. Nott shook her head, her ears stuck back against her scalp, the liquid inside the bottle smelled like the burning tinge around Tick’s hot breath. 

 

Nott’s first growl and hiss came before her first drink. 

 

Tick grabbed Nott’s neck and pulled her towards the liquor, “Guess we’ll do this the hard way.” 

 

“Yer’ gonna kill it.” Tick’s friend laid on the grass and did nothing to help the young goblin being harrassed.

“That’s the point, dumbass. Blessing what I’m doing for it--faster than nature.”

Tick shoved the flask forward, forcing Nott’s lips apart. Her body convulsed against Tick’s hold and the fire burning her throat. Tick pulled away and Nott choked, throwing up and crying. 

 

On her hands and knees, the world spun. The bonfire and laughing felt far away--spinning away. I’ll be thrown off the ground, Nott thought. 

 

_ I won’t be picked up, I’ll be thrown away. _

\-------------------------------------------------

Three days had passed since the human--her human--Caleb, and her escaped their cell.

 

Nott could still smell the fire, the hay in their 'beds' took to Caleb's magic and the guards had fled at the sight of flames overtaking the jail, then letting them escape by Nott picking the lock. 

 

They're both now taking another risk, right after the success of the escape Nott felt a jittery itch that meant it was time for a drink. And Caleb said he needed a book. The miniature settlement they'd entered might have a name, but it's not one either Caleb or her care to learn or become familiar with. 

 

The village was nondescript, brick houses, one road in and out, a cemetery, a small jail--all the things humans liked, Nott thought. Proper human towns always had them. 

 

"House, general store, feed loft, flower bed...." Caleb mumbled to himself while they walked side by side. He had shaken and trembled when they entered through the village gates. 

 

Yeeza had once explained to her the law of reactive compounds, unequal distributions of electrons and fragile groupings of ions. Caleb is a prime example of this, his body is weak and frail. It's paper thin because his mind and magic are threatening to spill out of him. Unstable, powerful ionic bonds waiting to explode. 

 

When they walked together Nott stared at his hands, she was eye level with the bandaged, blackened knuckles covered by soot and ink; and she yearned to hold them. She'd known this human for a few days, had this human be her friend, and she was breaking all of her own rules. 

 

_ It’s gonna really, really,  _ really  _ hurt when he drops you for the first creature that’s better at protecting him. Like his magic cat ! _

 

She  _ wanted _ to hold his fragile hand, the same hand that made fire from nothing; she  _ wanted _ to hold it and make him stop shaking. Before he leaves he will hold my hand, Nott thought-- it would be a parting gift. 

 

_ Nott The Brave ? More like, Nott the Girl Who Will Ever Stop Wanting. _

 

Nott slipped her claw into Caleb’s hand as his Common shifted to the strange tongue she’d never heard of. He’d lapse into an array of habits in fear: listing, counting, snapping his fingers, humming. It made Nott feel less abnormal for her itch and collections. 

 

Her claw fit in his larger hand, like a bird in a cradle, and she was happy knowing that he was momentarily linked to her. Nott held her breath, waiting for him to notice.

 

“ _ In Prag wusste ich, dass ich eine Hexe bin. Verbrannt lebendig, ein Scheiterhaufen sowjetischen Kitsch……..Nott, Was machst du gerade ?  _ Nott, what are you doing ?” Caleb said, looking down at her in the same way he looked when he woke up from a nightmare. Of all his quirks she’d come to know so far, Nott hated the way he disappeared in himself. He'd gone to places she could not follow and she worried he wouldn't return 

 

“What were you saying before ? In your words ? I heard my name.” Nott said, and Caleb stopped shaking. Her distraction had succeeded and he didn’t pull away, instead he held up their joined hands, bemused. She pushed a little more, going as far as to swing his hand as they walked. 

 

“Are you nervous ?” Caleb teased and seemingly realized that the danger he’d made in his head wasn’t upon them, villagers laughed in a tavern down the street and slept in their beds, no one looked to hurt them (yet). 

 

“No,” Nott lied, she was always nervous. “You started mumbling a song, I think…”

 

“I asked what you were doing,” Caleb shifted, but still let her hold his hand. “I hadn’t noticed you captured my hand.”

 

“But before that--you were saying something before that.” Nott squeezed his palm experimentally, and he _ still  _ didn’t pull away from her. 

 

“Oh !  _ Ja,  _ I hadn’t even noticed. Just some nonsense; just some  _ bobbemyseh. _ ” 

 

“Yeah, what is it that you were sayin’-”

 

“Didn’t you mention a drink at some point ?” Caleb interrupted Nott by guiding them towards the tavern door. Nott yearned to call him out, at that moment his lying was as bad as hers, but she liked holding his hand too much and expected him to yank it away if she pissed him off. 

 

They entered together, with Nott carefully hidden behind Caleb as he ordered and found a table. She gave up the pestering when she realized he had already paid for both of them. 

 

Nott resolved that the next drink would be on her. Money wasn’t fun to collect anyway.

 

The waitress bounced over to them, at first happy and eager to serve. Her whole demeanor shifted for a moment in Nott’s presence. Nott smiled under her mask, it did no good, but it added a touch of fabricated authenticity. The waitress placed the drinks down and hurried back to her post. 

 

Caleb paused before passing Nott the mug. The drink sat in the middle of the table, and when she reached to grab the booze Caleb pulled it back, “How- How old are you again ?”

 

Nott’s ears flickered under her hood. What did it matter, she thought. She’d fought for everyday of her short life. And hadn’t she been the one to feed him and give him shelter in the jail that trapped them ?

 

“It’s okay, I was weaned on this stuff,” Nott said. Caleb’s face grew scarily still, and he swallowed despite not eating anything; his throat bobbed because the invisible thing he’d eaten was stuck, Nott assumed. “I’ve been drinking since I was a pup.”

 

_ There you go again, oversharing everything. Wide eyes and loose lips. _

 

“You’re thinner than I am,” Caleb ran a hand through his hair and slowly slide the beer over; he made a ‘tsk’ noise when she snatched the drink. “At least pace yourself….” He trailed off watching Nott tip the oversized jug to her lips. Foam covered her mouth and lingered in suds all along her nose.

 

“I’ve got a beard; like you, Caleb.” Nott smirked in victory; the wizard nearly laughed-- _ almost-- _ he coughed and gingerly sipped his own drink to hide the flash of amusement at her joke. His expression shifted, and his nose wrinkled in disgust at what they’d ordered, but Nott downed the whole tankard in one sitting. 

 

“A dwarf girl has replaced my little friend,” Caleb reached over with his scarf  to wipe away the sud beard. 

It all happened quickly; Nott ducked out of the way of his touch (instinct taking over) and her swerve resulted in her planting face first into the tavern floor. The room spun around and she could vaguely feel her own hands trying to sit her up. 

 

_ Shit, he’s gonna think you’re a lightweight….But he called you his friend. His friend on the floor. Get up ! People are looking ! You’re going to get him hurt ! _

 

“I told you to pace yourself…” Caleb winced at her continuous efforts to stand. The rest of the tavern remained lost in the their own drinks, except for a few wandering eyes that made her blush. 

 

“Used em’ to burn offa’ warts on mules.”

 

“What ?” Caleb lifted her up, squirming mess and all, and motioned to the bar keep. Nott gasped as the floor suddenly was far away. The disorienting feeling of Caleb walking up steps and Nott laying against his chest, made the the room sway.

 

“Thick as molasses,” She slurred. “Was molasses.”

 

“Hopefully you don’t go blind.” Caleb opened a door, placed her onto a soft surface somewhere, and walked a few feet out of her line of vision. Panic beat against the indifference of her drunken stupor. He could easily leave her, right here and right now, she thought. He’ll leave before he’s even found a better protector, she realized. 

 

He returned to her while she rolled around on the bed, looking for her coin purse. She tossed it towards him with every bit of strength she had left. A drunken giggle escaped her while watching him try and catch what she’d thrown.

 

Caleb opened up the sack and held the five gold pieces in his palm. Nott couldn’t tell if he was mad, and suddenly she feared that her efforts to keep him with her would backfire--accomplishing the exact opposite. She was drunk enough that if he did scream at her, she could take it. It was easier to take a hit, a beating, or an insult like this. The morning after would be terrible, but still easier to pretend it was only a dream. 

 

“What is this ?” 

She’d dreamed so many times of gentle hands lifting her up after a drunken mistake. If he left she could add him to the list of real world people turned to figments. 

 

“What is this ?” Caleb repeated. 

 

“For drinks, and books, and more drinks, and you.” Caleb continued giving her that strange look, his eyebrows all furrowed and his eyes calculating her. “I’m sorry.” Nott had only wanted to impress him, prove that she could take care of him. 

 

“No- No- I’m not mad. I’m confused, and a little surprised is all.” Relief washed over Nott as Caleb explained. “You’re full of surprises, my friend.” 

 

“Why are you being nice to me ?” Nott said. The question pierced through the haze; it had waited in a forced dormant state. She’d chewed on it since she’d met him in their shared cell. It was that he kept calling her ‘friend’, that’s what had awoken the question. 

 

Caleb looked down at his hands. He sighed, “You’re beneficial to me and-” His throat clicked trying to get the words out, he was choking on the invisible thing he couldn’t swallow. “I’m being selfish.”

 

Nott bit her tongue. He’d told her she was nice to have around, but then he claimed it was selfish ?

 

_ Why ? Why is it selfish to want someone to help you ? Why is it bad to want someone to be nice to you ? A beautiful, powerful wizard deserves to have people who want to help him.  _

 

She had to make him see, and fulfill the urge to destroy anyone who taught him to believe that he wasn’t worth it; the idea solidified in her mind. Nott would teach him to see through her eyes. All humans had parents, and mentors, and mothers. 

 

Nott would be his; he belonged to her. She was a sorry excuse for anything. Nott was not good, not brave, not kind. But, she’d suffice since his own kind and everyone else so far had failed. 

 

Her eyelids began to droop, and Caleb looked at Nott with traces of concern. He really was very kind. 

 

In the space between consciousness and sleep, Nott heard and felt Caleb lean over to pull a strand of hair off her face. 

 

“It was a song my mother taught me.” He whispered, and Nott’s closed eyes didn’t stop her from guessing that he had only revealed this because it was assumed she was asleep. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

Being nomadic meant discovering a new enemy every place you travelled. 

 

Nott fumbled with the healing salve, her four fingered hands struggled to latch onto the circular bottle and uncap the wide, glass lid. Caleb groaned, his noises of pain echoed through the cave they’d taken shelter in. He was trying to get his shirt off to tend to his own injuries and was making a spectacular show of pain that made Nott cringe each time he cried out. 

 

He was sitting hunched over himself, his coat slung at his shoulders with his arms removed from the jacket sleeves, trying to deal with his torn shirt and a gash at his side. 

 

“I got it ! I got it !” Nott didn’t pay attention to the lid’s shatter when it hit the ground. Caleb needed her ! All else was secondary to her easing his struggle. “I’ve got-”

 

Nott froze when she saw his bare chest; scarred, older injuries welcomed new ones from their most recent brawl. He was painfully skinny too, his ribs pushed out of his skin and she’s reminded of when she first saw him in their shared cell. She’d been thrown in to the room, afraid of him for his height, but without his coat or cloakes he was lithe like fence posts alongside the road.

 

Then there was his arms, which had always been bandaged around her. Someone had been very creative with whatever they’d done. They’d scratched in words, symbols; probably using ink and a sharp tool. It's as if he's one of the books and scrolls that he loves so. Someone had used him as the template for a terrible and painful story. He’d been  _ branded _ .

 

Nott tried to never think of Tick. She tried to keep down the memory of Tick showing her all the branding irons, the pliers, the nailed coffins.

 

Caleb locked eyes with her. They both stayed in silence for a beat. Nott’s eyes trailed over the necklace he was wearing with an amber stone attached; Caleb then averted his gaze to stare at the ground, causing Nott’s chest to ache. 

 

“Pass it. Quickly now.” Caleb ordered, holding his hand out to take the jar and keep her at an arm's length away; she flinched at his tone. He only used that voice when he needed to scare someone, or have someone obey. It was an act she didn’t like directed at her. It wasn’t her Caleb. “Now,” Caleb snapped his fingers at her.

 

_ I’m not your fucking cat.  _

 

Nott marched around his arm, she could play this game too. He spun his head around as she walked behind him and cringed as she began to place salve on his bare back. The scars were worse behind.  “Nott !”

 

“This stuff feels cold on my claws,” Nott deflected, she focused on the foreign texture of the healing cream. Looking at his scars, and the methodical way they laced up and down his front and back, was all too familiar. “I’ve never used this before.” 

 

Goblins loved the whipping post.  The scars would criss cross along the back, methodical but messy. 

 

Whoever did this to him would die, Nott thought. Her anger gave her a picture, clear and pulsing, of herself taking the anonymous human torturer and bending back their fingers past the wrist--one by one. 

 

“You don’t have to do this.” Caleb was terse, he flinched as she spread the cream around his shoulder blades. Caleb had been on his own for so long; Nott had a lot of years to make up for. 

 

“I can’t reach my back either,” Nott mumbled, taking her job seriously. “You might have to put a little on me too.”

Caleb sighed and didn’t fight her help. She hated the quiet, to kill it she babbled about the ugly farmer they’d robbed. ‘His face was all bloated’.‘Bleh’ he was gross’. 

 

Caleb didn’t move. Eventually Nott settled for daydreaming. 

 

Could the person who did this to him also be the one who taught him to put on his cruel mask ? Tick had taught Nott how to drink and pretend the world wasn’t real, only spinning. Yeza had taught her kindness, then encouraged her to practice it. Caleb was showing her how to see herself in others, and how to help herself in the reflection. 

 

Nott rubbed a dollop more in and wiped her hands on her cloak. She gingerly patted his shoulder, “All done.”

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

“For what ?”

Nott moved around to face him. Sitting with her legs crossed while he was hunched over made her feel smaller. She was a small goblin sitting under a cliff of a human. 

 

Caleb appeared shamed at her response, “I don’t know what came over me….”

 

“You were scared,” Nott risked holding his hand. “That wasn’t actually you; that was the face you put on when you’re scared.” Nott reiterated her point, but Caleb shook his head.

 

“I should never have talked down to you…..You don’t deserve to be treated like that. “ He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. “Nott, I- I haven’t had a friend in a long time.”

 

“Me neither,” She still wasn’t sure if Yeeza had actually been her friend. “We’re out of practice.” 

 

“Yes, I guess we are.” Caleb’s eyes clouded over, Nott recognized this was a sign that he was thinking--going far away inside himself to ponder. His eyes snapped back, “Do- Do you need some healing ? There’s salve left over.”

 

“Sure !” Nott hated having to burden him, but couldn’t pass up letting Caleb help her with her own injuries. The real Caleb, the one who she'd begun to feel a fledgling love for, he was kind, smart, and belonged to her. 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

“Not magic, unfortunately….” Caleb thumbed through the book they’d stolen from the travelling caravan. 

 

“Shit !” She’d been shot for it too. The bastards had slingshots, loaded with rocks filed to be sharp. 

 

“The stories are nice, though.” Caleb smiled to himself and chewed on his lower lip. “Oh, oh,” Caleb waved his free hand excitedly and motioned for her to come closer. “This one’s good.” 

 

Caleb held the book up to her, he was eager to share. Nott examined the book’s illustration of a woman in robes writing words upon the forehead of an androgynous human. The androgynous figure was laid forward, standing up right and stiff--like a statue. 

 

“What is it doing ?” Nott attempted a glance at the writing next to the page and cursed at the words that weren’t in either Common or Halfling. 

 

Caleb beamed at her, and for once Nott was happy to be ignorant for the sake of Caleb being able to share, “She’s making a homunculus: a type of golem. I’ve read this story many times. The witch goes against the elders of the town, she’s brave, and makes the golem to stop the village from being raided by-” 

 

“Raided by what ?” Nott didn’t connect the dots till Caleb’s eyes looked up and down her. “Oh. Yeah, goblins, huh ?”

 

“ _ Ja _ , goblins.” Caleb flipped the pages hurriedly, like he was a gust of wind running through the paper. “This one, I like this one better,” Caleb held up the book again and showed Nott a picture of a man opening a door for a creature with eyes everywhere, on fire, and winged. 

 

“Weird,” Nott touched the page, tracing the illustration. The creature was like the goblins probably to be destroyed or thrown out, Nott thought. 

“I’d slam the door on its face. ‘I don’t have the rent money, demon’.” 

 

Caleb smiled softly, “Celestials don’t typically enjoy being rebuked.” 

 

“I don’t ‘ _ enjoy _ ’ when people throw rocks at me, but tough titty.” 

 

“How about I read it to you ?” Caleb suggested. His eyes kept flickering away, expecting to be rejected. 

 

“Sure, sure,” Nott needed to encourage Caleb to speak more, use his voice instead of getting lost in the infinite circles of thought that ran him ragged. “Can I sit next to you ?” 

 

The goblins in her clan would occasionally sleep in piles. Nott had enviously watched them from the periphery, simultaneously wanting to be in the warm group and hating her kind. Caleb needed convincing; the first time she laid by his thigh he’d almost burned her upon waking up. 

 

“Sure,” Caleb pulled her close to his side. She squeaked and he actually laughed this time. “You don’t have to ask anymore.” 

 

He explained to her all of the mythologies; the rules of the world run by magics. Full moons turned people into wolves, love and kisses awoke those in coma (she liked that one the most), thieves could steal and still be good, parasitic Dybbuk latched onto clerics, and scorpions atop a turtle's back-  

 

Caleb fell asleep mid-sentence and leaned against the tree; Nott stayed nuzzled by his stomach. 

 

The goblins of her clan had stories to keep you in line, to keep you from running, or to keep you from thinking too much about where you were going.  They never recorded them--Tick would call it a waste of time. 

 She wondered if they’d too achieve their impossible fairytale ending, she and Caleb. A seed of wanting (more, more, _more)_ grew in Nott. It had appeared after their first attempt at The Money Pot. Caleb had turned copper to gold and broken the laws Yeeza had founded in Nott’s mind. 

If he could change copper to gold could he change a monster into something else ?

Nott knew that Caleb was in search of an impossible ending, she could smell the many aspects of her companion. When she nuzzled into his side she could sense: honey, mud, feathers, ginger, rice, licorice, clay, sulfur, smoke, pine trees, tears, sweat, blood; and then something far greater. 

 She could smell his yearning. It’s shape and smell so similar to hers that it made Nott’s eyes water. Nott leaned in closer, relishing the warmth, and sighed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the German translations:
> 
> Echt jetz ? - Really now ? (it's an exclamation akin to someone saying 'seriously ?!'
> 
> “ Mutter schau, es ist wie meine Haare” -  
> Mother look, it's like my hair "
> 
> Du hast ihm vertraut? -  
> You trusted him?
> 
> Sich hinlegen. Das wird nicht lange dauern. - Lay down. It will not be long.
> 
> bubbala. - term of endearment. 
> 
> “nicht zappeln, meine Liebe.” - Do not fidget, my dear."
> 
> “Die Ausführung ist öffentlich.” - "The execution is public."
> 
> Wach auf, Narr! - Wake up, fool!


End file.
